


Last Man Standing

by ghosteye99



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Contests, Drinking Games, M/M, Post-War, Pre-Slash, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosteye99/pseuds/ghosteye99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-War, AU (Harry is 18 +). Harry is determined to prove to the man he wants that he’s man enough for him. </p><p>Written for accioslash, in gratitude for the lovely Christmas things she sent me. Her prompt: ”<i>Harry decides to show Severus that he'd be a better choice of lover than Malfoy (either Lucius or Draco), but is Severus convinced? Hm. I like pretty much everything except threesomes - fluff, angst, dark, light. Go with your muse. *g*</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Man Standing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accioslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioslash/gifts).



> Disclaimer: The characters & settings in this story belong to J.K.Rowling & associated publishers, not me. I'm making no money out of this, neither is any Copyright infringement intended.

Professor Snape fixed a glare on Harry while he picked up another shot of firewhiskey. “You are not going to win at this little game, Potter,” he said, then downed its contents. He pointedly twiddled the empty glass between steady, elegant fingers - before placing it back on the table, in the precise spot from where he had taken it.

“Now it’s your turn, boy,” he said. 

Harry’s face flushed a little as he picked his drink up. Still insist on calling me a ‘boy’? he thought annoyedly as he brought it to his lips and took a swallow. “Keep trying, Snape” he replied, with a nod in the other man’s direction, “Malfoy’s already hit the floor, you’ll soon be down there next to him.”

“We shall see.”

In truth, Harry had begun to be less sure that he would succeed in the bet – they had not been playing for long, and he was already feeling more than a little fuzzy. If the whiskey was likewise affecting Snape, he was showing no sign of it yet.

“I think if you really didn’t want me,” Harry quipped, “you wouldn’t have agreed to this, even if…” he paused to collect his train of thought as Snape took another drink, “…if this was all Malfoy’s silly idea.”

Snape banged his glass down hard on the wood, making their audience jump. He shot another dirty look at Harry, but did that thin-lipped sneer have a faint grin to it this time? Did those narrowed black eyes now seem to twinkle more than glitter?

“We had all agreed that the last man still standing will get to choose,” he quietly replied, lazily gesturing in Harry’s direction, “so take your glass.”

Harry did, but soon as he swallowed the firewhiskey, things started to feel very… wrong. He tried to put the glass down squarely, but it somehow managed to roll away on its side. It was also suddenly harder to keep his eyes in focus. Pressing his hands flat on the tabletop, he hoped he didn’t look too much like he was trying to keep steady.

“Well, s… Snape?” he said, “Y… your turnsitis, now.”

“The last man standing, Potter,” Snape archly replied, raising his glass in a mock toast. Harry watched the Adam’s apple bob once in the slender, sinewy neck as the drink went down. He blinked to uncross his eyes.

“Now, you.”

Harry took a deep breath, and picked up the glass. The firewhiskey glowed like liquefied amber in the candlelights. Steeling himself against its effects, he drank. He had to keep going to outlast Snape… if he let himself lose, he would probably not get another chance with him, Snape was true to his word…

* * *

Harry woke up feeling as though his brain might slowly explode. As scraps of memory from the previous night came back to him, he remembered where his hangover had come from. Something about a drinking contest, Malfoy had suggested it because he wanted Snape; Harry realised then that he must have passed out, meaning that he had lost…

He groaned, and rolled over to nurse his disappointment, as well as his head. That was it then, Snape would not have him – he would not let any losers into his bedchamber. A scent wafted past his nostrils that had the distinct tang of fresh spearmint, and kitchen drains…

“Are you awake, Potter?” The familiar voice was soft, but it seemed oddly devoid of mockery or malice.

“Wh… what are you doing here, Snape?” Harry replied, blearily.

“I should have every right to be here,” Snape replied, “since this is my house.”

“What happened? I thought I lost… where’s Malfoy?”

“At his place,” Snape said, pushing a goblet of potion towards him. Harry realised that was where the smell was coming from; “and I shall let him know the news when he has sufficiently recovered, which should be sometime later this afternoon. Now take this potion, it will help cure the hangover.”

The stuff tasted almost as bad as it smelt, like mud mixed with weak blackberry jam, but once Harry managed to get some of it down, he immediately began to feel better.

“What news?” he asked.

“The last man standing got to choose,” Snape said, “And since that man just so happened to have been me, I made my choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should know by now how much I dislike associating with weak-minded people, Potter,” Snape replied, “and though I considered it rather foolish of Malfoy to suggest that little test,” he continued, “I decided to go along with it, to see what you would do. To see if you would show sufficient, shall we say… fortitude?”

He paused, looked meaningfully at Harry, and added; “I have lately grown weary of Malfoy’s childishness. I had been meaning to find a chance to part in a civil manner, and I was also somewhat impressed by the determination you had shown last night. But if you wish to remain with me,” Snape went on, “I shall expect you to conduct yourself as a worthy partner. By now, you should know what that will involve.”

“I’m more than capable of being man enough for you,” Harry said, remembering with a flash of irritation that Snape had repeatedly referred to him as boy when they were drinking last night. Now that it seemed he’d finally succeeded in having Snape for himself, he began to wonder whether it was such a good idea to have a lover that would keep calling a twenty six year old man things like that…

“We shall see, shall we, Potter?” Snape said.

“It’s Harry.”

Snape arched an eyebrow, but his lip did not curl. “Pardon me?”

“I would much prefer it if you called me Harry,” Harry repeated.

“I suppose it would make sense if I did so… Harry” Snape replied, “in which case, please refer to me as Severus from now on.”

“I will,” Harry said, his misgivings fading; “and thank you, Severus.”

**-End-**


End file.
